


Macchiato Incommunicado

by InkFlavored



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, annoying as hell to lovers, dangerous levels of sarcasm, horrifying coffee orders, oh also puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkFlavored/pseuds/InkFlavored
Summary: Prompt: “my favorite coffee shop is closed for the day so i have to find somewhere else where i can get my overly-advanced pretentious order and i found the place where you work and now i never use the other place anymore because even though you always serve my drink with a 'what the fuck has normal coffee ever done to you'-sigh you're really cute and i'd like to go out with you”
Relationships: Atem/Mutou Yuugi, Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi
Comments: 73
Kudos: 277





	Macchiato Incommunicado

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalikBishtar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikBishtar/gifts).



> this fic is a birthday present for my wonderful friend!! happy birthday, vani!!! congrats on existing for another 365 days, you make the world a better place <3 the amount of fun i had writing this should be some sort of crime, and i hope today is just a great for you!!

The sun crawled over the horizon, streaking orange, pink, and gold across the sky. Powder blue rose along with it, the inky blackness of night fading away with the moon and stars. As these first signs of morning made themselves known, sunlight replaced streetlights, buildings were liberally painted with the dawn’s colors, windows facing east glared with the coming of the new day. People streamed from houses and apartments, hurried down streets, piled into public transport, and took off in cars. 

If it were any other day, and he was awake at an hour this early, Atem would be hating his life. Thankfully, it _wasn't_ any other day. He found himself enjoying the walk down the busy morning streets, hefting his school bag over one shoulder. Because there was _one_ and _only_ one upside to a 9am class.

Coffee.

Sure, he had to get up a little earlier than any human being should be awake to get his morning fix _and_ get to class on time, but it was worth it. Plus, he made sure to learn early on that this professor was lenient about attendance. If a long line made him late, his tardiness would be waived easily with an extra drink in hand. 

Regardless of the lack of real consequence, he tried _not_ to be late. Coffee runs were important for his mental health, probably. Rushing through something he enjoyed this much would be just as bad as not going at all, somehow. It made sense in his head. He might be biased.

A sleek black building came into view, sitting on the corner of the street. It glittered in the morning light like a monument made of obsidian. Golden accents outlined the windows in swirling patterns and ostentatious decoration. Though they were tinted too dark to see through, Atem knew the inside well enough to picture it as if the windows weren't there at all—polished mahogany tables, soft lighting, plush chairs, and the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee. A decorated sign hung above the well-crafted wooden doors, with the name of the place in gold cursive: _Noble Temptations Café_.

It was a well run, always-busy, so-nice-you-feel-underdressed café that boasted the most elaborate menu in downtown Domino. What they _didn’t_ care to mention was that it was also one of the most expensive, but Atem had a budget that included his various coffee expenses—nothing less for his favorite café. 

Not to mention that Noble Temptations was one of the few places that could get his order _right,_ much less make it well. That was partially his fault, but he refused to take responsibility for enjoying complicated things. _It’s part of my charm_ , he always said when people asked. Or groaned in anguish.

A small smile touched his lips as he approached the entrance of Noble Temptations… 

And confidently walked right past it. 

See, an unexpected halting of operations at Noble Temptations nearly a month prior forced Atem to find a different place to get his morning fix. The closing had been temporary—a company reserved it that morning for some sort of conference, which wasn’t uncommon in Domino. But on that same day, Atem decided he had a _new_ favorite coffee shop within the same two minutes he stepped into it. And he was determined to become as regular there as humanly possible.

He crossed the street and turned the corner. The new place was a little more out of the way, but the detour to get there had long since been worked into his schedule. In addition to some extra time to hang out when he got there. For his health. Or whatever excuse he decided to use that day.

The closer he got, the lighter his steps fell on the sidewalk. The little smile was threatening to turn into a stupid grin. He resisted the urge to shake hands with every stranger passing him, because _goddamn_ life was wonderful. _Everything_ was wonderful! How could anybody be sad, ever? This was going to be the best day of his life.

Nevermind the fact that he had said this to himself yesterday, at this exact same time, doing this exact same thing. Details, details.

Too soon, yet not soon enough, a more modest building came into his line of sight. It looked like most of the other shops and restaurants lining the street—a short, gray-brown exterior, wide front windows, and a little step under the door. Scrawled on the windows with chalk were various doodles of coffee cups, pastries, and stars in various colors, along with the name of the shop in big, bold letters: _Java Nice Day!_

Atem slowed his pace and took a steadying breath. _Don’t be weird_ , he chided himself. _Relax. Be cool. Don’t be weird._

That ship had definitely sailed on day one, but he was hoping it would come back into port one of these days.

He opened the door, endlessly repeating his mantra, and took in the familiar sights as it fell shut behind him. Low plastic tables with succulents in their centers, stools with pastel colored cushions, and walls copiously decorated with more of the art seen on the front windows. He glanced over them on his way to the counter—advertisements for seasonal drinks, new additions to the menu, and inspiring quotes imploring the reader to “Java Nice Day!” 

It really was the _worst_ pun, and half of why he loved this place so much. The _other_ half…

Well.

The two baristas on shift were the only two in the building, besides Atem. One was lanky, with an impressive shock of white hair tied back from his face, and a little nametag that read “Ryou.” He was talking to someone significantly shorter, someone with their back pressed up on the register, laughing about something, and a haircut ridiculous enough to rival Atem’s own. 

Atem tapped his hand against his thigh, keeping time with his abruptly racing heart. _Be cool!_ he screamed at himself. _Be fucking cool!_

He lifted his hand in a casual wave. Ryou glanced up, catching his eye. There was a spark of recognition, and then something a little more impish. A sly smile spread up his face to his eyes.

“Hey, Yugi,” he said, returning Atem’s wave. “Your favorite is here.”

The back of Yugi’s head tilted. “What? My fav—” He turned around the very second Atem stepped up to the counter properly. 

“Oh,” he finished, deadpan, and wearing a look that read _Not this guy again._

But it was, in fact, That Guy again. And That Guy could not be happier to be back. 

“Hi,” Atem said, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt. 

“Welcome back,” Yugi said, though it didn’t sound genuine at all. “You must really like coffee.”

He laughed—probably a little too loud—and shrugged. “I have a class at nine this semester. I’m hardly awake as it is.”

“What can I get for you?”

Even as the words left his mouth, Yugi’s eyes were pleading for Atem to stop talking before he even opened his mouth. Atem bit back another dumb smile.

“I’ll get,” he began, and Yugi tensed like he was bracing for impact, “one large, iced hazelnut macchiato, upside down, with sugar-free syrup, and an extra shot.” He _did_ let the goofy smile slide over his face that time, and added sweetly, “Please?”

The bone-deep, world-weary sigh Yugi let slip was possibly one of the most beautiful things Atem had ever heard.

 _There is something wrong with me_ , he thought. _There has_ got _to be something wrong with me_.

Atem listened with delight as Yugi scribbled down the order on the side of a cup, parroting it back for clarity. Every word was bitter and incredulous, like he couldn’t believe he _actually_ had to make this now, and was offended at the concept that it existed. 

But he didn’t get a single detail out of place, and Atem was able to nod and say, “Perfect.” 

About the coffee order. Just the order. Nothing else.

Yugi tallied up the price, Atem paid, and then he sat down at one of the little stools to wait. He admired the succulent before taking out his phone and pretending to scroll, in reality sneaking glances and listening to the baristas go about their work—mostly to Yugi. In his defense, the coffee shop was so quiet it would have been hard _not_ to hear them talking behind the counter. 

“Do you want me to make it?" Ryou asked.

Yugi rolled his shoulders and huffed. "No, I'll live. Probably."

Ryou snorted and waved him away. Yugi disappeared behind some complex coffee machinery, and Atem kept pretending to be interested in his phone.

He knew how ridiculous his order was, and he knew that it was futile to order it _here_. Noble Temptations was a better place to get this kind of drink, and had been for a long time. If good coffee was all he wanted, he would get something different coming into a small, likely family-owned, under-employed coffee shop like this. But he didn’t _just_ want good coffee.

He had no idea why, but rattling off his absurd order and watching Yugi roll his eyes gave him a better kick than any amount of caffeine ever could. He _would_ have tried a wildly different order every time if his tongue didn’t get stuck in the back of his throat and his mind went on “order the usual,” mode out of panic. There was something about Yugi’s tired sighs, his sarcasm, his baffled exasperation. And his eyes. He just had really pretty eyes. And he’d smile _genuinely_ sometimes, and Atem was so, _so_ —

 _Gay_ , his brain finished. _I am so unbelieveably gay._

“One large iced hazelnut macchiato,” Yugi called, snapping Atem out of his daydreaming, “with all that other stuff, too.”

There was no one else to confuse his order with, so Yugi didn’t _have_ to rattle off all of Atem’s other customizations. But when he approached the counter for his drink he still asked, “How am I supposed to know it’s mine if you don’t say what’s in it?”

Yugi gritted his teeth into a smile that barely reached his eyes. “I promise, it’s yours. No one else orders like you do.”

The dry tone suggested it was supposed to be an insult, but Atem decided it was a compliment. “Thank you!”

Yugi slid his drink across the counter with a sealed straw laid across the lid. “Enjoy. And don’t forget to Java Nice Day.”

Having the name of your coffee shop also be the slogan was, in Atem’s personal opinion, an ingenious marketing strategy. Though it was likely hell for the employees.

“You too,” he said, taking the drink and turning around and glancing at his phone for _real_ this time. He frowned at the time, discovering it was later than he thought. He could still make it to class, but he’d have to be responsible leave _now_ instead of sitting around. Which was what he _wanted_ to do. 

Atem weighed the decision in his mind and opted to get to class on time. There would be plenty more coffee stops in the future. He planned on it.

  
  


As an ancient history major, Atem didn’t much care for _any_ of his gen-ed classes outside of as much as he needed to in order to graduate. He did the work, showed up for tests, and passed. That was good enough for him, even if it was _barely_ passing. Plus, he had friends that helped him study… _when_ they weren’t busy getting drunk off their asses. He often promised himself he’d find a new study partner, but studying was the last thing on his mind, at the moment. 

The coffee was the gift that kept on giving—it helped him get to his statistics lecture, helped him stay awake and take notes instead of doodling all over his spiral notebook, and now the empty cup was helping him just as much as its previous contents had.

He tuned out the professor talking at the front of the room, the typing and scribbling of notetakers, and the heavy snores of someone sleeping two rows back. All of his attention was directed toward the shorthand scrawled on the back of his plastic cup. He ran his thumb over the permanent marker and held back a wistful sigh.

The handwriting— _Yugi’s_ handwriting—was just as cute as the rest of him. It was wide and bubbly, but neat enough to be legible, with evenly spaced letters abbreviating Atem's many modifications. There was a small check mark in a smaller box, indicating that the drink was iced, and under it was a wider box that asked for any customizations. Yugi had run out of room at the second request, the shorthand bleeding over the box’s guidelines. 

Atem shifted it in his hand and thought about how he saw Yugi write everything down that morning. The way he held the pen with slender fingers, careful not to press too hard or smudge the writing with his hand. He wondered what his hands felt like. Probably soft, if he had to guess. Yugi looked like the kind of person who would have soft hands. 

Maybe _all_ of him was soft. Maybe the roundness in his cheeks wasn’t just for show, and they’d actually feel as smooth as they looked. Maybe his hair was soft, too. He probably gelled it to get it that spiky, but there had to be _moments_ , right? When it wasn’t done up, hanging loose, perfect for Atem to comb through with his fingers. Would Yugi roll his eyes, then? Would he click his tongue and make a snarky comment, that Atem, for some ungodly reason, would find himself blushing over? Maybe—

A hard _SLAM!_ on his desk sent him reeling. Atem shot awake from his daydream and looked wildly around.

He found Marik, alleged friend and insufferable roommate, standing over him with his hands around the edge of a hefty textbook. Half the lecture hall was empty. Class was over. _Whoops_.

“Dude,” Marik said. “What the hell are you doing?”

Atem relaxed back in his chair, acting casual. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you were staring at that coffee cup like you were about to go down on it.”

“I—I was _not_. I zoned out.”

Marik blinked, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And why are you staring at it?”

Atem stood up, collecting his things into his bag. “No reason. It was _there_.”

“Are you sure you aren't desperately in love with it or something? Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were about to propose.”

He scoffed and attempted a poker face. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.”

Marik swiped the cup off the desk without hesitation, holding it high in the air— _too high_ for Atem to reach—and inspecting it with narrowed eyes. Atem took a futile swipe for it, even though it definitely gave him away. 

“Give it back,” he demanded, with all the authority of a fourth grader at recess.

“‘Java Nice Day’?” Marik read aloud, squinting at the logo. “What in th— _Oh_ , this is that new place you’re going to, right?”

He tossed the cup back and Atem cradled it like a prized possession. “Yeah. What about it?”

“The place where that one barista makes fun of you every time you order?”

Atem made a break for the exit. “He’s not making fun—”

Marik was close behind, groaning with his hands over his eyes. “ _Please_ do not tell me you have a thing for the sarcastic barista. Just don’t even say it.”

They squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder through the doorway and into the bustling halls of the University of Domino. 

“Okay,” Atem said, “then I won’t say it.”

Marik groaned again, dramatically throwing his head back. His gaudy earrings threatened to get tangled in his hair.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Atem countered. “You’re dating the guy who literally almost murdered you.”

His hands were off his face in a flash. “Number one, getting hit by a car is _manslaughter_ , not murder. And number two, he apologized! So it’s fine.”

“Sure. But _this_ is so horrible.”

“Alright hotshot, what’s this guy’s name?”

“Yugi.”

“Yugi _what_?”

Atem looked pointedly elsewhere. He tucked the coffee cup closer to his chest.

Marik leaned around to look him in the face again. “Do you even know what he likes?”

“Simple coffee orders,” he muttered.

Marik closed his eyes and sighed. “Oh my fucking God, you’re hopeless.”

“I don’t usually hold casual conversations with my baristas. Do you?”

“I _do_ usually want to get along with people I’d like to be fucking on the regular, but—”

Atem smacked him across the chest. “WIll you shut the fuck up?” 

“I’m just saying—” Marik tossed his arm away, “—that if this guy is so annoyed by your over-complicated coffee orders that he bitches about it to your face, _maybe_ it’s not a great fit. Time to hop to it before you get your heart broken.”

“It’s just sarcasm. It’s not like he’s telling me to shove it up my ass or anything.” 

“Well obviously. You’d already be dating him if he said that.”

Atem’s internal body temperature jumped to a hundred degrees. He ground his teeth together. “We share a dorm,” he warned. “I know where you sleep, and I know where all the knives are.”

“Not all of them. Ra’s gone again, thanks to the bastards at campus security.” Marik scowled in the direction of the security office. 

Atem shook his head. “I keep telling you not to bring it to class.”

“What, like I’m just going to walk around defenseless?”

“Alright, but maybe get a switchblade instead? Machetes aren’t really school friendly. Nor are they legal to open-carry as a weapon.”

Marik waved the idea out of the air. “I’ll just go pick it up later.”

They approached the end of the hall, two glass doors to the outside world greeted them, along with a trash bin waiting patiently against one wall. Atem approached it, holding out the empty coffee cup. He hesitated for a lot longer than he’d ever admit to before dropping it in and returning to Marik’s side.

His roommate gave him a long, pitying, almost disgusted look. “Dude.”

Atem folded his arms over his chest. “What?”

Marik shook his head as they pushed through the glass doors. “If you don’t at least ask him if he’s interested, I’m going to do it for you.”

“Weren’t you _just_ saying I should move on?”

He threw an arm back toward the building. “You just looked like the world’s most kicked puppy throwing away _garbage_ that he interacted with. The only thing that can save you now is an acceptance or a rejection from the horse’s mouth.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, even if he _doesn’t_ like you, there’s still potential in hatesex—”

Atem clamped his hands over his ears and power-walked in any direction that was _away_. “Goodbye, Marik!”

“I’m just saying you have options!”

“I’m leaving! I can’t hear you!”

“Ate—Come back, we’re going to the same _building_!”

  
  


Yugi was hanging upside down on his dorm room couch, ankles crossed and a game controller in his hands. It was hardly the handicap Jou had assumed it would be, because he was now sitting with his hair brushing the carpet, kicking ass at _Mario Kart_ , and _still_ able to rant about his day.

“And then he gets it _upside down_ ,” he spat. “He gets an iced macchiato upside down, which is the stupidest combination I’ve ever had to make.”

“Every time?” Jou asked, buttons clacking as he attempted to escape fourth place.

“ _Every_ time,” he said. He took out his aggression on the CPU driver behind him with a red shell. “He’s been coming in every morning, three days a week, for a little over a month, and it’s the same thing _every time_.”

“It’s true,” Ryou added, sitting on Yugi’s other side, calmly watching their match. “A bit of an odd request, honestly.”

“His whole order is awful," Yugi insisted. “It’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever had to regularly make, and the _regular_ part is what pisses me off so much. If it was a one-time thing, it’d be funny. But I have to do it _all_ the time, and it’s killing me.”

He lapped the poor CPU in last place as he crossed the finish line, completing his second circuit. One more to go for another easy victory. Jou was probably going to make him play blindfolded next.

“Why don’t you just make it before he gets there?” Jou asked, locking in a third place second lap finish.

“Because then I’d have to subject myself to that torture of my own volition,” Yugi explained. “If he orders it, I _have_ to make it. And making it on my own would imply that I care." He drove over a banana peel hidden inside an item box and cursed as his kart spun out. 

“Ha! Gotcha.”

"Why do I _always_ fall for that?"

"No idea, but I really appreciate it."

“He’s rather friendly,” Ryou commented. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in poor spirits.”

Yugi snorted. “He fuels himself on his pretentiousness.”

“He just seems like a really happy person to me.”

“I guess he must be if he can smile through my sass.”

Jou gasped in mock horror. “Yugi! Don’t tell me you were being _rude_ to a _customer!_ What would your grandfather say?”

Yugi shoved him playfully with his foot. “He wouldn’t say anything, because neither of you are going to tell him about it, _right_?"

Ryou snickered. "Our lips are sealed."

Jou, on the other hand, pretended to be the responsible one. "I don't know, Yug'. I think it depends on how much you're working this poor guy. It's bad for business, you know."

"I'm not being a dick," Yugi insisted, jumping to his own defense. "I just snark at him. Roll my eyes and stuff. There's never anyone else in the shop to judge me about it, because I guess he wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn specifically to annoy me." 

Jou passed the CPU in second place as Yugi drifted around a corner. He wasn't worried about it—the win was still in sight.

"It is a little charming," Ryou mused. "No matter what you do, he takes it in stride."

"Eh." Yugi surrounded himself with a green shell shield to keep Jou off his back. "It's still annoying."

"What's wrong with a guy _not_ being mad at you?" Jou asked. 

"I don't even know, it just makes me— _arrgh_!" He fired all three shells at Jou, stealing back his first place spot. A risky move, but worth it. 

"It makes you 'arrgh'?"

"That was directed at you. I mean it's just—I'll tell you what he did this morning." The course was nearing the finish line, Yugi in first and Jou hot on his heels. "When I served him, I was all 'Here's the iced macchiato with way too much other stuff.' And he comes up to the counter—remember there's _nobody_ else in there—and he goes, 'How am I supposed to know it's mine if you don’t say what’s in it?'"

"Ha! That's kind of funny actually."

"Don't take _his_ side."

"What side? There's no sides."

Yugi elected to ignore that _wrong_ statement. "He says something dumb like that every day, too. I want to pull my hair out every time he walks in."

From his sharp angle, Yugi could see Ryou shaking his head with a smile. He ignored that too.

"Man," Jou said, "this guy sounds like a pain in the ass."

"Understatement of my career," Yugi agreed.

"Mhmm. So when's the wedding?"

Yugi flailed his legs in the air and shrieked, " _What!"_

The momentum sent him careening to the floor, legs kicked up over his head. He flopped face-down on the carpet with a heavy _thud_. The controller was lodged somewhere under his ribcage. He groaned.

"Hell yeah!" Jou crowed, as the game played the tell-tale sound of a kart crossing the finish line. "Hail to the king, baby!"

Yugi pushed himself onto his elbows. "That round doesn't count."

Jou froze mid-celebratory dance. "What are you talking about? I totally won."

"You used under-handed tactics."

"By what? Reminding you that you're in _love_ with the stupid coffee orders guy?"

He scrambled to a kneeling position, throwing his arms out wide. "I'm not—I don't even _like_ him! I don't even know his name!"

"Names aren't that important," Ryou said, missing the point entirely. And likely on purpose. "People fall for attractive strangers all the time."

"And what makes you think that _I_ am one of those people?"

Jou rolled his eyes like it was obvious. "Uh, because if you really hated him that much, you wouldn't put so much effort into interacting with him."

Yugi sputtered and got to his feet. "Seriously? What effort?"

Ryou answered for him. "You _do_ insist on making his order every time." Yugi shot him a withering look. He shrugged innocently.

"And _I_ ," Jou said, pressing his palm flat to his chest, "having known you for most of your life, Yug', know for a fact that you would just grit your teeth and smile if you _actually_ didn't like him." 

Yugi flipped around and picked up his controller, slumping against the couch. "Believe me, there's a lot of teeth-gritting happening."

“You don’t even sass the douchey-ist douchebags you deal with. Hell, you jumped in front of a fist for me when we were _twelve_ , even though I totally deserved it.” 

Making his way to the finish line in a pitiful twelfth place, he firmly shook his head. “Wrong. Nobody deserves to get hit.”

Jou pointed enthusiastically. “Exactly! You’re as confrontational as a baby rabbit. Why on _Earth_ would you be sassing a nice guy unless there was something different about him?”

“Because he’s annoying. End of discussion.”

"Even if you don't like him," Ryou said, decidedly _not_ ending the discussion, "you can't fault us for thinking you might be interested."

"Why's that?"

"He's your type."

The option for the next course came up, and Jou gleefully accepted his responsibility as the winner to choose it. Yugi frowned at the screen, running through a list of everything he considered "his type," in his head. Nothing jumped out relating to the annoying customer—he didn't know enough about the guy to come to any conclusions.

"How is he 'my type'?" he finally asked.

"Well, he's… you know." Ryou spun his hand in a circle, searching for the right words. "A little odd?"

Yugi couldn't hold back an incredulous laugh. "I'm sorry, since when is my type people who are 'a little odd'?"

"Since literally forever, Yug'," Jou chimed in.

" _Who_ have I been that was odd?" He was genuinely curious now.

"What about that guy who left you for a dragon?"

Just like that, he was no longer curious. His chest constricted at the memory. "We were only together for a month _,_ and the dragon in question is a nickname for the girl he’s with now."

"Well, what about that girl who lived on a farm with her grandfather in the middle of nowhere?"

"She was normal!"

"Believing Atlantis is real is not 'normal' behavior, Yug'. That's conspiracy theorist territory. Honestly, you're lucky she skipped town."

Yugi was losing this argument, and needed to find a way to end it. Quickly. "Just because I have a history with weird people doesn't mean I actively seek it out. And it doesn't mean I like this guy, either." He threw his head back on the couch at Jou. "Would you start the next race already?"

But Jou wasn’t even holding the controller. He had his phone out, tapping away urgently. 

"Ah-ha!" he proclaimed. He jumped up from the couch, holding his phone like a teacher holds a book to read out to the class. "'Define: tease,'" he read. "'Verb. To make fun of or attempt to provoke a person or animal in a playful way. Synonyms include: nudge, banter, bait, _flirt_ —' _wargh!"_

His speech was interrupted by Yugi chucking a pillow at his face, striking its target true. He barely saved his phone from shattering by clutching it to his chest protectively.

“Start the race,” Yugi demanded. “Rainbow Road. I’m going to demolish you.”

Jou leapt back to his seat, phone discarded on the cushion next to him. “You’re so on. _But_!”

Yugi narrowed his eyes. “But?”

“If I win, you have to ask out the coffee guy.”

It was an unlikely win, especially if Yugi was playing upright. He still didn’t want to risk it.

“No way,” he said.

“Come on, not even a counter-bet?”

“Nope. Pick a new bet.”

“Well now I’m _positive_ you like him.”

Yugi’s eye twitched. “Fine. But if _I_ win, we are never talking about this again.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Ryou. “This includes you.”

Ryou shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Jou slid his selector over to the infamous track, but hovered instead of confirming the choice. “First thing’s first—” he gestured for Yugi to flip himself around again.

Yugi sighed in disgust, but did as he was told, hopping back up on the couch and throwing his legs over the back. A slightly harder position to race from, but nothing was impossible.

“Heh, upside down,” Jou snickered, selecting the course. The countdown began. “Isn’t that the way your _boyfriend_ likes—”

Jou started with a handicap of his own: Yugi’s foot in his face.

  
  


Yugi, of course, didn’t let Jou win that race. It was a hard-won battle, but his skill proved more powerful than his seating position. Skill and desperation. It was one thing to have to see and interact with the annoying coffee guy half the week—it was another to have his _friends_ talking about him too.

True to their word, both Jou and Ryou had been silent on the subject. Though not without some childish grumbling from Jou, disappointed that he now had one less stick to press Yugi’s buttons with. As if his buttons weren’t _plenty_ pressed about the subject. His buttons were pressed more than a French press. They were pressed like a remote on half-battery. They were pressed like a sticky letter on a laptop’s keyboard. Yugi was _very much_ pressed.

Who did this guy think he _was_ , anyway? He waltzed into a small, local coffee shop like it was a Starbucks one day with an order a half a mile long, and then _kept_ coming back and doing the _same thing_. Yugi was barely making above minimum wage, which definitely wasn’t enough to be able to deal with this shit. He could barely deal with _regular_ bitchy customers, but this guy? This guy was the _worst_.

The most infuriating part was how nice he was. That was absolutely the worst of it. He came in with a dumb-as-all-hell smile, rattled off his order like nothing, and then only got _happier_ when Yugi rattled it back with acid dripping off every word. And then he had the gall to try and make _jokes?_ Make _small-talk_? It was unbelievable. This guy had to be a sadist, considering how much he liked to watch Yugi suffer. 

And just _once_ , Yugi wished he would say something worth listening to. Or shut up. Just completely stop talking and put his stupid face to better use. His stupid, dumb, pretty face that actually _wasn’t_ all that pretty now that he was thinking about it.

Sadly, he was forced to think about it. The annoying order guy had come in that morning—with his usual stupid order and his usual stupid smile. It was _stupid_.—and was currently waiting on Yugi to finish his monstrosity of a coffee. Could it even really be called coffee, anymore? It was coffee in name only. He wanted to strangle the concept of this coffee-adjacent drink.

Every so often, Yugi would accidentally look over one of the machines and see _him_. The culprit of this madness, scrolling carelessly on his phone with another one of those dumb smiles. Yugi had to look away before he shouted something across the room like, _have better taste._ Or, _stop being so happy all the time_. Or, _green really isn’t your color. Not that I care, but it just doesn’t go as well with your skin tone as something red would, or blue. Maroon would be okay. Maybe even a dark gray, but not green. Ew._

You know. Normal things to tell people you don’t like.

Ryou did his best to be subtle, but Yugi could see him make suggestive glances from time to time—which didn’t _technically_ count as talking. So Yugi made the rest of the order glaring down into the cup the whole time, hoping that it would spontaneously combust. Or that _he’d_ spontaneously combust. He wanted something to explode, that was the goal.

But nothing did. He finished the unexploded drink and pressed a lid onto the cup. He stepped up to the serving counter, checking to make sure no one else was in the shop to hear him. One upside of the morning: none were.

“Iced hazelnut macchiato,” he said, and added, “et cetera, et cetera.”

It was as if the coffee guy had been waiting for this moment. He was up from the stool before Yugi had even finished his sentence, bright eyed and grinning on his way up to collect his almost-coffee.

“Et cetera?” he repeated, taking the drink as Yugi slid it across to him. He clutched it in both hands like he was afraid it would disappear if he let go.

Yugi handed him a straw. “I don’t have the time or lung capacity to say the full thing every time.”

The coffee guy giggled like a high schooler. Yugi once again found himself wondering, _What is this guy’s deal_?

“Fair point,” the guy replied. He took the straw like it was a precious gift.

Again. _What the hell?_ Yugi just needed to end this.

“Well, Java Nice Day, Mister Et Cetera.”

“Atem.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“My name. It’s my name. Atem. Hi.” The pure, if confusing, joy in his face had melted off to reveal a very anxious smile. He was rocking back on his heels, like he was contemplating running away.

Yugi blinked again, unsure how to respond. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” he blurted. “That was really unnecessary, I didn’t meant to, uh—”

“No, it’s fine,” Yugi said, at the same time screaming at himself, _Why? Why are you doing this_? “I guess if you’re going to be in here every morning. Most of the week. For a _whole_ semester. Having your name isn’t terrible.”

His tone had dropped flatter than the Sahara as the sentence continued, but the coffee guy—Atem, rather—was over the moon. 

“Oh,” he said, almost gasping. “Okay. Cool.”

A thick, awkward silence grew between them. Yugi made a sharp _pop_ with his lips.

“So,” he said. “I’m going to go back to _work_ now…”

Atem jumped away from the counter like he’d been burned. “Right! Yes, sorry. Thanks. Thank you.”

Yugi just turned around and went back to the register. Finally, this part of his day would be over. He could move on from this moment, not have to worry about the moment Atem would walk in, because he’d walked out. 

Except… no he hadn’t.

Yugi resisted the urge to scream when he saw Atem plop his ass right back down on the stool he’d gotten up from. Then he pulled out a _book_ , flagged with what looked like a hundred different sticky notes. He opened it. Took a sip from his drink. And started reading. 

Yugi took a very slow, deep, breath. For the sake of his blood pressure, and the customer he spied outside walking up to the door. He wasn't about to take out his aggression about a random stranger on a random stranger. Except the _appropriate_ random stranger.

Not really too random anymore, now that Yugi knew his name, but honestly he'd probably forget about it by the time his shift was over. He met so many people in a day, there'd be no way he'd remember something as innocuous as _that_. Especially because he didn't care. Even though he did have a pretty cool name, and Yugi caught himself absentmindedly wondering where Atem was from, he _didn't_ care enough to remember. At all.

The morning was slow. Minutes ticked by, every so often a customer would wander in and order something blissfully simple for Yugi to make without wanting to rip out his eyes, and then they'd be on their way. Leaving nothing but silence and emptiness.

Empty, except for Atem.

Yugi _wasn't_ staring across the room every time he had a free moment to watch him and wonder _why_ he was still here. He glanced at the clock—it was well past nine, and this guy allegedly had a _class_ at nine. He stayed later sometimes, but he was _always_ out before now. Not that Yugi had been keeping track or anything. 

He pissed himself off watching Atem read quietly, holding his asinine drink in his lap. Occasionally bringing it up high enough to drink from, then put it back down and hold it between his knees like some kind of weirdo. The table had _plenty_ of space! 

Yugi spun around and clenched his shaking fists in the air, close to his chest so no one could tell. No one except Ryou, who gave him a quizzical look. Yugi stared up at him desperately. 

"Why won't he leave?" he mouthed, running anxious fingers through his hair. If he had to deal with this guy _for five more minutes_...

Ryou just smiled and rolled his eyes, looking over Yugi's head. Then his smile fell. His expression grew curious, and borderline suspicious. It was like watching a detective put together the pieces of their conspiracy theory wall to find the killer.

Yugi couldn't resist—he turned around. He saw absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. 

"What?" he asked, out loud that time.

"Nothing," Ryou promised, but it wasn’t convincing. "I thought I saw something, that's all."

"What was it?"

"Nothing."

Yugi narrowed his eyes. "Sure."

Another customer came in and torpedoed the argument, but now Yugi had suspicions of his own. As the morning went on, he could have sworn Ryou was staring at Atem more than _he_ was. Which was a lot. Because Yugi didn't stare at him at all, ever. Not even to watch him run his fingers down the page as he read, pausing only to flip it with a single flick of his wrist. He didn't notice _any_ of that.

And as he continued not to notice Atem, he continued to do his job. Serving people. Making drinks. Pretending to be happy about everything they said, no matter how rude they were to him. Ensuring he told them to "Java Nice Day." Cleaning tables. Cleaning one _particular_ table, that happened to be a lot closer to Atem than he would have ever chosen to be, but he didn't really get a choice about where people made their messes.

Yugi swiped up the crumbs from some pastry or another, and enough spilled coffee to make him wonder how they had anything left to drink. His rag soaked it all up with a few practiced strokes, leaving only the smallest of wet streaks behind. He went over it again, just to be safe.

One table away, to his right, Atem was staring at him. Yugi could _feel_ himself being watched, though every time he glanced over to check, Atem's nose was buried deep in his book. But Yugi hadn't heard the flip of a page since he'd been over there, and from what he'd noticed, Atem was a fast reader. He hadn't noticed much, though. Because he hadn't even been paying attention. 

It was hard not to pay attention now. With the eyes so clearly fixed in his direction, Yugi resisted the urge to pull at his collar. It was uncomfortably warm, heat crawling up his neck like hands ready to throttle him.

"Don't you have a class to get to?" he spat, a surprise to both of them. Atem sat upright on his stool, Yugi froze mid-swipe, bent over the dirty table.

"No, actually," Atem said, after a pause. Yugi looked over in a show of politeness. He worried the corner of one of the book's pages between his fingers. "It got cancelled last minute."

"Oh," Yugi said, and suddenly felt an urgent need to explain himself. "You're usually out by now, so I was wondering."

One of Atem's hands fluttered to his chest. "That's okay, I uh… I don't mind."

"Cool."

He resumed his task. Atem's eyes flicked up and down several times between Yugi and his current page. And as the creeping fingers of heat clawed their way back up his neck, Yugi decided he _had_ to get out of here. Out of this situation, out of this building, out of this _life_.

He gave the table a final, definitive swipe before pivoting to face the counter. He marched forward two steps, and found he couldn’t go any farther. He squeezed the dirty rag in one hand and tapped it against his leg. He bit his lip. There were eyes on his back, but it was the least of his worries.

Yugi had been wanting to say something— _needing_ to say something, like needing a heart to pump blood, like needing air in his lungs. Since the first day Atem walked in, he'd wanted to scream it, but could never find the right moment. It never seemed like the right time, or something got in the way, or it just didn't _feel_ right. But now, he had a perfect opportunity. Now, something felt right. Now, he almost couldn't stop himself from spinning around, and blurting it all out in a single breath:

"You do know that an upside down macchiato is basically just a latte, right?"

Atem looked surprised to even be addressed. "What?"

"A macchiato is already a latte in reverse, so if you ask me to _re_ -reverse it, it's just a latte again. I mean, there's literally no point— _just_ _get_ a latte. It'd be easier on both of us."

In that moment, Yugi knew his grandfather would have dragged him into the back room by the ear and given him several pieces of his mind for even entertaining the _thought_ of talking to a customer like that. But his grandfather wasn't there, and Yugi was confident that if he didn't get this off his chest at that _very_ second, it would have killed him.

Atem blinked owlishly, first at Yugi, then at his half-finished drink. "It's not _exactly_ the same, right? A macchiato has more foam instead of just hot milk like a latte."

Yugi could hardly believe what he was hearing. Something _intelligent_? "I… I mean _yes_ , you're right, but—" he snorted and threw a hand back to the variety of machines behind the counter, "—I can just _make you_ a latte with extra foam."

Atem looked at the machines, then at Yugi, then at his drink again. A confident smile crawled up his face. "But wouldn't that just be an upside down macchiato?" 

Yugi opened his mouth to retort… but realized he couldn't. _Dammit_ , he thought, and was disgusted with his own mouth as it curled up into a half-smile.

"Touché,” he said.

Atem looked like he'd just won the lottery. He bit down on his straw and ducked his head back down into his book. His skin looked several shades darker that it had when he walked in.

Yugi saved himself any further embarrassment by spinning around and marching back to the counter. Once back there, he flicked his used rag to a smug Ryou. He caught it effortlessly.

"Not a word," Yugi hissed, and returned to his place at the register. 

He dove headfirst into the rest of his work, determined not to even _breathe_ in Atem's direction in case he lost his mind and accidentally started another conversation. Honestly, he had no idea what had gotten into him in the last two minutes. But it didn't matter, because he wasn't going to be doing it again any time soon. 

So focused was he on not doing it again, that he didn't even notice Atem had left until he saw the back of his head walking out the door. He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, visibly relaxing his stance. _Finally._

"Yugi," Ryou said, urgent and right in his ear.

He looked over and dreaded what he saw. Ryou was wearing a familiar eager expression. It was the same one he wore when he came up with a new plotline for his D&D campaigns. And that always meant whatever he had to say was going to be _awful_.

"No," Yugi said immediately, and tried to make himself look busy. 

"I know I lost the bet, _but—_ "

" _No_."

"Sixty seconds! Sixty seconds, and then I'll stop, I promise."

"Thirty."

"Forty-five."

Yugi sucked on the inside of his cheek. He glanced around the shop. Everyone had been served, and there was no one new to deliver to. Which meant there was no escape.

"Forty-five seconds," he agreed, folding his arms. "Starting now."

"Coffee guy totally has a crush on you, I'm _positive._ "

"Come _on,_ Ryou—"

"I'm serious! You should have seen the way he was staring at you when you were turned around." He put a finger to his lip thoughtfully. "He always looked away right before you turned back, though, he's good."

"So you saw it, I didn't, and you have no proof."

Ryou put his hands on his hips. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed how he was acting today when he was talking to you. Or _any_ day, honestly. I can't believe I only just picked up on it, myself. I thought he acted strange, but—"

Yugi spun his eyes like a slot machine. "You're insane."

"He was trying to _impress_ you, Yugi. When you were talking about his drink—"

"You're wrong, it's like you said yesterday. Atem is just a weird guy—"

"What? Who's Atem?"

He cursed himself for remembering. "He told me his name today, I'm not just going to keep calling him 'Annoying Coffee Guy.'"

Ryou took him by the shoulders. "Yugi. He likes you _so_ much."

"You are way past forty-five seconds, by the way." He brushed Ryou's hands off. "And what makes you think I care if he likes me?"

"Do you remember in elementary school when kids who didn't know how to process their feelings for other kids just called them stupid?" 

"Yes?"

"That is exactly what you're doing right now."

" _No_ , I'm not. There are no feelings to speak of. Can we stop now?"

Ryou shrugged with a spark dancing in his eye. "Alright, I'll drop it. But when—not _if_ —he asks you out, and you say no because you can't get over yourself, I think you're going to be missing out on something special."

"I'm twenty-three. I haven’t even graduated college. Even if he asks me out—"

"When!"

He pursed his lips. " _If_ Atem asks me out, I doubt that I'll be turning down my entire future. People come and go, and I guarantee that this random customer is _not_ the love of my life."

Yugi let that be the end if it, confident in his words as he returned to his shift.

  
  


"I'm _positive_ he's the love of my life," Atem said, clutching the pillow closer to his chest. He stared up at the ceiling of the dorm common room wistfully from the couch. 

He’d been thinking about Yugi all day, without a single lapse, and it had been torture trying to do anything that didn’t involve lying down and imagining what it would feel like to kiss him. He was now taking the opportunity to do so as it presented itself, and had decided to continue with the “soft” pattern he’d invented. He added warmth, and the taste of coffee. It was almost too much.

Across from him in a logue chair, Marik sat with his chin in his hand. “I can’t believe _I’m_ the one saying this,” he droned, “but can we do what we came here to do and finish this stats homework, please?”

“Mai’s not here yet. We’re studying with her, remember?”

“Is that why you dragged me out of our room to a completely different residence hall halfway across campus?”

“I didn’t pick this place, it’s just where she wanted to meet.”

Marik huffed and checked his phone. “Well, can you tell her to hurry up or something? I’m going to start ripping holes in this chair if I have to listen to any more of your ridiculous pining.”

“Can you just let me have this?” Atem snuggled closer to the pillow. It smelled awful, but he just needed something to _hold_ right now.

“I’ve been ‘letting you have this’ for seven and a half minutes.”

He pressed the pillow over his face and groaned into it. “I’m so _fucked_.”

Marik muttered into his hand, “Clearly you’re in the middle of a dry spell.”

Atem ignored it. He revealed his face again to breathe. “We had a conversation today.”

“Fantastic. How many words was it this time?”

“No, it was a _real_ conversation. With sentences and everything!”

Marik raised his brows. “Really? I’m impressed.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

“ _That_ sounds more like you.”

Tonight was an exercise in Atem’s ignoring-Marik-skills. “He noticed I hadn’t left by the time I usually leave, so he asked me why I wasn’t gone yet.”

“That sounds a lot like he was trying to get rid of you.”

He rolled over onto his side. “That’s what I thought too! But then he _kept_ talking to me, and asked me why I don’t just get a latte instead of an upside down macchiato, because they’re basically the same, but _I_ said—”

Marik pressed his palms together and leaned forward in his seat. “Oh my God. You have no idea how much I don’t care.”

“Ugh. Fine. Whatever.” Atem rolled back over and stared at the ceiling some more.

The only sound was the clock ticking. Some people walked past them into the kitchen area. Footsteps echoed on the stairwell. Marik inspected his nails. Atem sighed.

“Have I told you about his eyes yet?” he said quietly.

“Wow,” Marik deadpanned. “Well done, Atem. You went a whole fifteen seconds without talking about Yugi. That’s a new record.”

A loud crash and a string of muffled curses from the stairwell interrupted his retort. Both of them jerked around to stare down the seemingly empty hall for the source of the commotion.

“What the hell was that?” Marik asked, hushed, like he was expecting a surprise attack. 

“I don’t know,” Atem replied. Then he called, “Hello? Everything okay?”

There wasn’t an answer. Complete silence.

“Weird,” Marik muttered.

“Mhmm,” Atem agreed, already back to daydreaming. “But seriously, have I told you?”

Marik slumped back into the cushions. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“They’re this really pretty blue-purple color. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it in my life.”

“Cool. Just let it all out, I guess. Fuck me, right?”

“And they change color under different lights a little bit. Like the color pops out when he’s standing right under a light, and I just— _ugh_!” He pressed the pillow back over his face, screamed into it, and pulled it back off. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of gay.”

“Please do. End my misery.”

“And he has this little piece of hair that falls in his face all the time. It’s always in the same spot, right in the center of his forehead, and it always goes back into place when he pushes it away. And, _oh!_ Today, he smiled at me, and it was a _real_ one, not just one that he has to do for work. It was when we were talking about the coffee thing. That’s a good sign right?”

Marik threw his head back onto the chair and sighed. “I don’t _know_ , Atem. Ask your lucky deck of cards or whatever.”

“The lucky deck isn’t for answering questions, it’s for winning games.”

“Obviously. My mistake.”

“Do you think Yugi likes games?”

“Why the hell are you asking _me?_ ”

“He probably does. I can just tell. And he’s just so _beautiful_ and _funny_ and _smart_ , and…” Atem threw his hands in the air, reaching for something invisible above him. Then he slumped back down, and rolled his head over to shoot an pleading look at Marik. “What am I going to do?”

Marik had his arms thrown over his face. “Holy _shit_ , Atem. Just ask him out already. For your sake _and_ mine.”

He curled up on his side with the pillow hugged to his chest. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You said it yourself—he’s annoyed by me.”

“So? _I’m_ annoyed by you, and yet here we are.”

“There are so many reasons why this is completely different.”

Marik leaned his head on his fist, crossing his legs dramatically. “Enlighten me.”

“Because you’re annoyed by me in a friendly way.”

“That makes the opposite of sense.”

Atem gestured between the two of them. “If you really didn’t like me, you could walk out and never speak to me again. But you aren’t going to do that, and I _know_ you aren’t going to do that. We hang out and game and fuck around and we’re friends at the end of the day, even if we annoy each other. But Yugi…” He gnawed on his lip. “I don’t know. There’s a good chance he _actually_ doesn’t like me. And he’s obviously not afraid of showing it.”

Marik’s stance had softened, and his next words came from a genuine place. “So, what? If he rejects you, you move on. Find someone else.”

“Yeah, but—” Atem pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m afraid he’s going to laugh me out of the _building_. If he’s blasé enough to sass me when he’s working, then all bets are off, right? And I’d rather not be publicly humiliated first thing in the morning by a beautiful person I have feelings for. And then I’d have to find a new coffee shop.”

“What? Why?”

“Hell, I’m not going _back_ there if he decides his sarcasm extends to turning me down. I’d disintegrate before I even set foot in the door. I’m just… nervous.” He snorted, and corrected himself. “I’m terrified.”

Marik took a slow breath. “Here’s what I’m thinking. Give it another couple days. If he was open to having a _real_ conversation today, he can’t hate you all that much.” Atem huffed out a laugh, and Marik smiled as he continued, “If you feel like it’s going in a good direction, shoot your shot. And if he makes you feel like an idiot, he never deserved you anyway.”

Atem squeezed the pillow one last time. “Thanks.”

The clacking of heels interrupted whatever Marik had opened his mouth to say. A tall blonde woman rushed over to them, plopping down on the one cushion Atem hadn’t taken over in his crisis, and setting her books on the table.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mai said, shooting them both an apologetic smile. Then she raised a brow at the prostrate Atem. “What did I miss?”

“Boy problems,” he said.

“ _Lots_ of boy problems,” Marik added.

She shook her head knowingly. “Mm. Been there. That’s why I have a girlfriend now.”

Atem hefted himself to a respectable position. “Unfortunately, not an option in my case.”

Mai squeezed his shoulder with a smile. “You’ll be fine, kid.” She slid a textbook into her lap and opened it up. “Now, who’s ready to do some math?”

  
  


Around the corner of the stairwell, tucked into the shadows, Yugi kept his back pressed against the wall, wide-eyed with hand clamped over his mouth. The conversation in the common room devolved into math jargon he couldn’t even begin to understand in his current state. Which was rattled. Shocked. Dumbfounded. And really, _really_ guilty.

He couldn’t even remember what he wanted to come downstairs for anymore. All he knew was that he had tripped and almost broken all the bones in his body when he heard Atem and a stranger talking about _him_. It was all he could do to scramble to a position where he could be out of sight while still able to hear them. 

At first, he had cursed his luck—of _course_ he and Atem went to the same school. He couldn’t escape him _that_ easily if the universe was so determined to make every morning at work as painful as possible. Of _course_ his life outside of work had to be invaded, too. But the more he listened, the more that sentiment was chipped at, every word breaking off greater and greater pieces, until it was nothing but a pile of regretful dust.

Atem was _beside_ himself with how much he liked Yugi. He annoyed his friend with it for minutes on end in that one conversation—and the way that friend was responding, it probably wasn’t the first time. Yugi had never heard anyone in his _life_ describe him that this virtual stranger had, as if he were some sort of perfect human being. He’d never once heard himself talked about like that, not once had he ever been complimented so extensively. It was a little embarrassing to listen to, like he’d opened someone’s diary and started reading without a second thought. 

And yet, after all of his gushing and praise, Atem... thought Yugi would insult him for it. That he’d laugh for daring to ask him out. Was that really the kind of person he thought he was dealing with?

Yugi’s heart was rolling around at the bottom of the Mariana Trench by the time they’d stopped talking. Had he really been so cold, this past month or so? Had he really given the impression that he was a holier-than-thou asshole who wouldn’t give anyone the time of day?

 _Yes_ , he suddenly realized. _I_ have _been acting like that_.

A sour taste filled his mouth. He was absolutely disgusted with himself. 

Numb, he returned the way he came up the stairs, shuffling down the hall like a sleepwalker. He opened the door to his room and closed it, leaning back and staring off into space. 

What was he supposed to _do_ now?

"Hey, welcome back" Jou said, sprawled out on the couch. "What took you so…" He trailed off, sitting up urgently and looking Yugi up and down. "What happened?"

Yugi worked his jaw for a few seconds. "I think," he said, raspy and unsure, "I'm a huge prick."

"What? Says who?" He jumped up from the couch and beat his fist into his palm. "Lemme at 'em, Yug', no one gets away with that."

Yugi shook his head and pushed himself off the door. "It's not like that, Jou. _I_ think I'm a huge prick. Me."

Jou's anger melted away to confusion. "What? You're like the nicest guy I know."

In any other moment, Yugi would have taken the compliment. But right now, it just made him hurt worse. 

"Can we talk?" he asked, hands folded sheepishly behind him.

"Yeah, of course. Sit down, man."

Jou sat back down on the couch and patted the cushion next to him. Yugi took it, folding his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on them.

"What's up?" Jou asked. 

"Coffee guy is downstairs," Yugi mumbled into his knees.

"He's _what?_ "

"Apparently he goes here."

"What happened, then? Did you clock him?"

It wasn't a very good joke, but Yugi cracked a smile anyway. "No. He didn't even see me. I hid in the stairwell." He tried to curl closer into himself. "He was talking about me."

He gave Jou the short version of what happened downstairs. He wasn't sure he could manage the long version anyway, or even recount it correctly. At the very least, he paraphrased Atem's info dump.

"Damn," Jou said. "He's got it bad for you, man."

"And then," Yugi continued, not willing to linger on that thought for longer than it took to hear it, "his friend asked him why he doesn't just ask me out already. And he… he said he's afraid of me humiliating him if he tries."

Jou looked like he'd just been slapped with a fish. "He thinks _what now_?"

"He thinks I _hate_ him. Or at least that I don't care enough to hurt his feelings." 

Jou looked to the side, steeling himself. "Don't take this the wrong way, Yug'. But don't you _actually_ hate him?" Yugi snapped his neck to Jou, surprised. He put up his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying you'd thrash the poor guy, but lately you've been talking about him like you wouldn't care if he walked out one day and never came back."

Yugi settled back down in his upright fetal position. "I don't _despise_ him. He's just irritating."

"I know Ryou and I were messing with you the other day, but is there anything you _genuinely_ like about this guy? Because I don’t think you’ve said a single nice word about him." 

Yugi didn’t think so either. HIs insides squirmed.

When he dove inside himself to see if there _was_ anything kind to speak of regarding Atem, he had never before felt a greater mess of feelings toward someone. They were coiled tight into a ball in the center of his chest, the size of a grape and threatening to expand. He got irrationally angry when he looked at it, twisting and pulsing and begging to be noticed. He opened his mouth to spit about how he really liked it when Atem _left him alone_ —

But he stopped at the last second and thought, _What am I doing?_

"He's persistent," Yugi said, correcting his aggressive impulse.

Jou quirked an eyebrow. "What a compliment."

"I mean it, though. I've been nothing but impolite to him for almost two months, and he keeps coming back. And he's _nice_ to me." 

It was the kind of thing Yugi would pride himself over—it was the kind of thing he did _every day_ , to every other customer in line. Every rude and impatient one. Every single unkind and unpleasant person. Except one. Atem wasn't even _half_ as bad as some of the other people that came in. He just had a complicated order and made him mad for no reason. But there _had_ to be a reason, right? He didn’t get this mad at someone for no reason. It wasn’t like him. Atem didn’t even _do_ anything. 

Yugi took a closer look at that grape-sized lump, giving it the attention it craved, and wondered again about _why_ he was so mad at Atem so often. He had no reason to feel anything but amicable toward him. He was polite, no matter how much Yugi threw at him. More than that—he was _friendly_ , and made his best attempts to be funny. He was a little dorky, more than a little awkward, but it was all endearing. And he was clever when he knew what he was talking about, if that morning had been an indication of anything. 

No, the more he thought about it, the more Yugi was convinced a wire had somehow been crossed in his brain. None of these things made him angry. They only made him feel very… small.

Oh.

"I'm afraid of him," he murmured. 

"Huh?"

Yugi started out of his head—he had completely forgotten Jou was sitting next to him.

"I said I'm afraid of him," he repeated.

Jou blinked. "Okay?"

"Not _of_ him, exactly, but I think I'm scared that actually do like him. A little."

If he was being completely honest with himself, Yugi probably liked Atem just as much as Atem liked him. He already went on incessant rants, just of a different type. And in his head. Mostly.

"Why's that?" Jou asked.

Yugi repositioned himself so he was sitting cross-legged, and splayed his hands palm up on his knees. "It's like you and Ryou were saying—my relationship track record hasn't been the greatest."

Jou swiped his hand through the air, dismissing the claim. "Pfft, those jokers weren't even worth your time."

"But I _gave_ my time anyway." He clenched his hands into fists and flexed them out again. "I guess I was just so worried about making another bad decision, I took one look at something annoying and blew it out of proportion."

Atem's order wasn't what made him angry in the first place, now that he was thinking about it. Yes, it was complicated. Yes, it was redundant. Yes, it was a little much to be making first thing in the morning. Yes, sometimes he even wondered how someone could even think up an order so pretentious. But he didn't care as much about _that_ as he cared about the way Atem made his brain run laps at a hundred miles an hour. How he had to settle on snark and sarcasm to function at _all_. He chose to be angry at the butterflies for leading him astray one too many times, and decided that he had to bite the hand that fed before it slapped him across the face.

"I have to fix this," he said, mostly to himself.

"How're you gonna do that?"

Good question. 

Yugi hadn't been nice to Atem the entire time they'd known each other. Even though they might have exchanged a few civil words here and there, that wouldn't fix the impression he chose to make, over and over. It was going to take a lot more than just agreeing to go out—if Atem even dared to ask at this point. It was going to be an endeavor. 

But that was okay. It was okay because Yugi knew better now. It was okay because he didn't _want_ people to think he was the kind of person who took pleasure in others' pain. Especially not _this_ person.

"I'm going to fix it the only way I can."

  
  


Atem was extremely confused.

He sat on a stool at Java Nice Day and didn't even pretend to look at his phone, or read a book, or do any of the homework he'd brought to convince himself to finish it in his free time. He stared at his hands folded in front of him, brows furrowed in concentration, and tried to make sense of the last two minutes. The sky hadn't fallen, the seas weren't running red with blood, and the ground wasn't splitting open to reveal the hellspawn beneath. So there shouldn't be any other logical reason for this to happen, and yet, it was happening anyway.

Yugi was being nice to him. Not even in a customer service way. Just being genuinely, honestly nice. And it was _super fucking weird_.

After their previous interaction, Atem had come in on a day he usually didn’t, with a little anxiety bubbling in his veins and a conflicting confidence boost from his talk with Marik. Yugi had spoken to him _first_ , even if it was two irritated questions in a row, which meant he at least tolerated an extra interaction outside of taking his order and serving him. If Atem showing up for a fourth day made him more aggressive, he’d back off. If nothing changed, he’d try for a fifth. Baby steps. One at a time.

He didn’t plan for _everything_ to change.

When he walked up to the counter, Yugi smiled and greeted him by name—which, by itself was like a lightning bolt to the face. But he didn’t snark. He repeated Atem’s usual order back with perfect clarity, not a hint of sarcasm. Not even a sigh. He turned around to make it without a single complaint. Even Ryou looked surprised.

And now, Atem was just waiting. For his drink, and for the sky to open up and start raining frogs. Because this _had_ to be the sign of some kind of apocalypse, right? Crush be damned, Yugi being nice put him _more_ on edge than when he was irritable. He didn’t know what to _do_ with himself.

Atem chanced a look over to the counter, where he saw the very ends of Yugi’s spikes dancing over the top of one of the machines. He turned around to grab something, and when he pivoted around again, their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Yugi smiled— _actually, for real_ —his already round cheeks plumping up and eyes crinkling. Atem smiled back reflexively, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. Or that something bad had _already_ happened.

Yugi went back to work and Atem went back to staring at his hands. 

_There's something wrong with him, right?_ he wondered. _There_ has _to be something wrong with him_.

"Large, iced hazelnut macchiato," Yugi called from the counter. Atem was already up, not expecting to hear the rest of the order. 

But Yugi kept going, looking directly at him as he approached.

"Upside down, with sugar-free syrup, _and_ an extra shot."

Atem couldn't keep the surprise off his face, eyes bugging out and mouth parting in disbelief. This was _too_ weird.

"I thought you said you didn't have the lung capacity," he said, taking his drink from where it sat.

Yugi laughed— _really_ laughed—a sharp, clear sound like wind chimes. "I took a deep breath."

Atem's head was spinning. For two reasons. 

"Okay," he managed.

Yugi passed him a straw, and said, "Java Nice Day."

He took it, but couldn't bring himself to walk away. He drummed the lid of his drink with his fingers, and figured, _Might as well_.

"I'm not sure how else to say this," he said, "but are you okay?"

Yugi titled his head, still smiling. Why was he _smiling_ so much? "Never better," he answered. "Why?"

"Because you haven't rolled your eyes once since I walked in, and I'm starting to think you're a clone."

Atem figured if this Yugi _was_ some sort of changeling, that joke would give him away. But instead of laughing or brushing off his concern, Yugi's bright smile faltered. The light in his eyes dimmed to something sadder.

"Yeah," he said. "About that."

Atem glanced behind him to make sure no one else was waiting to be served. He didn't want to hold up a line or anything.

Yugi didn't even seem to care. "After we talked yesterday, I realized I've been being pretty awful to you for no reason. All you've done is come in and be nice to me." He lifted his shoulders in a tiny shrug. "I'm just not going to do that anymore. Be rude to you, I mean. And I'm sorry."

"Oh," Atem said, not able to manage much else. All this because he knew slightly more about coffee than the average person? Was that really the way into a barista's heart?

"You don't have to be my friend or anything," Yugi jumped to add. "I just don't want you to think I hate you or something, because I don't. I hate your taste in coffee."

He finished with a familiar tired smile, and everything was right in the world again. All of Atem's worries melted away instantly.

"There it is," he said, punctuating his statement by tearing the straw free and sliding it into his drink. "For a minute, I thought you were going to admit you liked making it all along."

Yugi shook his head emphatically. "Oh, no way. No matter how much I like you, I'll never like _that_ monster."

Atem was halfway into a laugh before he processed that sentence completely. He choked on his own tongue and masked it by slurping extensively from his drink.

"You know," he said, once he had himself under control again, "you don't have to apologize for the snarky stuff."

Yugi knit his brows together. "Really?"

"It felt a little harsh sometimes, but I thought it was—" _Cute. Attractive. Hot, a little? Maybe? Shit, I have to say something._ "—funny."

Yugi didn't look completely convinced, and for a moment Atem feared he'd given himself up. He relaxed when Yugi smiled, and in doing so sent about a million electric shocks through his entire body.

"From now on, all of my sarcasm is coming from a friendly place," Yugi reassured him. "So don't worry about harsh anymore."

Atem nodded. He wasn't going to complain about that at all. "Just tell me one thing.”

"Sure, anything."

He proffered the drink. "Admit this is good."

Yugi's face slipped into a familiar, dead-eyed expression. Voice absent of any emotion, he said, "No."

"Damn, thought I could trip you up for a second."

He laughed again, but darker, and close to patronizing. "You're going to have to try a _little_ harder than that."

Yugi pushed off the counter and Atem watched him go, unable to feel his face. Or his hands. Or anything. 

This was going to be an interesting development.

He shuffled back to his seat, coffee in hand, trying to piece together what was left of his psyche. Most of it was still reeling from the first genuine interaction he’d ever had with Yugi in a month. He hung his head to the floor and spied his bag and the homework it inevitably contained. The last thing he wanted to do right now was work, but maybe a distraction would help his brain subconsciously process this.

He reached down and hefted his bag into his lap. Debating which boring assignment to finish first, he rifled through the biggest pocket, but his fingers brushed something a lot more interesting than homework. He smiled at just the thought of it, and decided he would rather do something fun rather than something responsible. 

Atem produced his copy of _Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization_ , the third and newest edition—within the past two years, no less—and set it on the table with all the care a mother bird takes with her hatchlings. Its recent publication date was a matter of personal pride, and his dedication to up-to-date history was the one thing he could impress Marik with. Of the few things they agreed on, keeping up with new versions of historical texts was something they were both very passionate about. Like Atem would _ever_ read a history book that wasn’t _up-to-date_. Absurd. 

Despite its newness, the book was covered in flags, sticky notes, and _regular_ notes scrawled in the margins, referencing and cross-referencing each other, other books, and information on one subject or another. It was no doubt his most well-loved book—and the previous editions looked no different. For what must have been the fiftieth time, Atem buried his nose in the pages and lost himself for what could have been minutes or hours, only coming up for air to sip from his drink. 

Engrossed, and content in the knowledge he had nowhere else to be that day, Atem didn’t even flinch when a shadow passed over him, nor when the figure casting it moved away. A stool screeched across from him, and _that_ caught his attention—who takes a chair at someone else’s table without asking first? He looked up to _politely_ ask them what the fuck they thought they were doing when—

Oh.

“Hi,” Yugi said, happily chewing on a scone. “Is it cool if I sit here? I’m on break.”

It took a few seconds for Atem’s brain to start working again. This whole “nice Yugi” thing was something that would take a little while to get used to. And exposure therapy was an overload.

“No problem,” he wheezed. 

“Thanks. Don’t mind me, enjoy your book.” 

To Atem’s credit, he tried very hard to start reading again. But he couldn’t remember what sentence he left off at anymore, and starting from the top of the page only confused him more, the words nothing more than meaningless squiggles jumping around in his brain. Additionally, his mouth kept drying up, and replacing it with coffee didn’t seem to be making matters any better. He was keenly aware of Yugi sitting across from him, doing nothing but minding his own business. And speaking of… 

This whole extra trip was to see if Yugi was more open to conversation, right? Might as well stay on target.

Atem marked his place with the random scrap of paper he kept as a bookmark and folded the cover closed. Yugi gave him a curious look.

“It felt weird,” Atem explained, “reading with you sitting over there.”

Immediately, he moved to stand. “Sorry, I’ll—”

“No!” Atem blurted, throwing out a hand. “No, it’s fine, I just uh. Thought it might be rude, y’know?” _Don’t be weird_ , his brain chanted. Not that it was much use now.

Yugi lowered himself back down, hesitant. “Are you sure? I don’t mind sitting somewhere else if it bothers you.”

He slid the book to the side. “I was finished with the chapter anyway.”

Yugi tilted his head to read the cover. “‘ _Anatomy of a Civilization_.’ I think my grandpa has this book.”

“Oh, really?”

“He was an archeologist in Egypt for a while, so he’s got a huge collection of stuff like this.”

Any embarrassment Atem might have felt was whisked away at the mention of archeology. “No way! That’s so cool.”

“It was even cooler growing up. He had all these cool replicas of artifacts all around the house, and had a story for every single one.” 

“That’s incredible. I’d love to do stuff like that.”

“Is that the goal?”

Atem wiggled his hands back and forth. “Maybe. I’m still figuring it out. But I’m an ancient history major at the moment, so nothing’s _off_ the table yet.”

Yugi pointed at the far wall, in the direction of campus. “Are you at UD?”

“Yeah, actually.”

He smiled like he had a private joke. “Me too.”

Atem didn’t quite grasp what was so funny about that, but he smiled back with enthusiasm. “Oh, cool. What for?”

“Game design.”

Atem praised himself for predicting that Yugi liked games, and almost voiced his correctness aloud. But instead, he put his elbow on the table, propped up his chin in his hand, and joked, “What, not mixology?”

Yugi snorted and rolled his eyes. But he was smiling, and somehow that made all the difference for the butterflies having their way with Atem’s internal organs.

“Mixology is for alcohol,” Yugi pointed out. “Not coffee.”

“There’s probably some kind of coffee mixing class out there.”

“Yeah, and you should take one.”

“Ouch. I thought you said you were being nice to me now.”

Yugi put his half-eaten scone down on the table and folded his hands seriously. “I say this in as kind a way as possible: you have _no idea_ what you’re doing to me when you order that demon—” he jerked his head toward the remaining third of Atem’s coffee, “—every morning. It should be illegal.”

Atem picked up the cup and sipped from it. “Have you ever even tried it?”

“No, of course not.”

He tilted it forward. “Try it, it’s good.”

Yugi stared at the drink like it said something rude about his mother. “You could not _pay_ me to drink that.”

“Are you scared or something?” He wiggled the cup, rattling the ice around. “It’s just coffee.”

“It’s _not_ coffee.”

“Really?” Atem took another sip, pretending to think. “Tastes like coffee to me.”

“You’ve been desensitized. You forgot about _good_ coffee.”

“This _is_ good coffee!” He held the cup out and shook it around again. “Come on, you’ll like it.”

Yugi tilted his head back to the ceiling and sighed. “Fine.”

Atem kept the cup held out with a smug smile, waiting for it to be taken from him. It never was.

Instead, Yugi leaned his weight on his elbows, half-standing over the table, and wrapped his lips around the straw. 

The straw in the cup. The cup that Atem was holding. That he was holding and hadn’t let go of, and now Yugi was drinking from and—

_Oh._

_Oh no._

The smug smile dropped off his face. Every drop of moisture in his mouth evaporated. HIs eyes got comically wide. His whole body was on fire, every nerve was alert and screaming. He physically couldn’t move, or swallow, or blink, or breathe. He was convinced he was going to die there. _Wouldn’t be the worst way to go_ , said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Marik.

Seconds, hours, or possibly _years_ later, Yugi let go. He dropped back down onto his stool, and the straw followed his lips a short way, pulling a little higher out of the cup. Atem watched him go, and never thought he’d be as jealous of a straw as he was right then. That was to say, desperately.

“It’s _okay_ ,” Yugi reported, picking up his scone and taking a bite. “But it’s still not coffee.”

As the feeling returned to his arms, Atem put the cup back down. “I’ll take it,” he said, surprised he could still form words, much less sentences. “I didn’t even have to pay you.”

“True, but now you owe me one.”

At that moment, Atem would have danced like a chicken if Yugi asked him to. But he settled for saying, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The moment faded. Yugi glanced up at a clock on the wall and frowned at it.

“Damn,” he said. “Have to get back to it.”

“Damn,” Atem agreed. 

Yugi stood up, the stool squealing across the floor. “Thanks for hanging out.”

“Anytime.”

He meant that. He meant that _so much_.

If Yugi picked up on the intensity, he didn’t show it. He casually returned to his post, popping the rest of the scone into his mouth as he went. Atem tried really hard not to watch him lick the glaze off his fingers. Tried, and did not succeed.

He stared very pointedly back at the table, and automatically lifted his coffee to his lips. He froze halfway there, the knowledge of the past several events fresh in his mind. His mouth dried up again as he stared down the straw. He came to a single conclusion:

He couldn’t sit here and also be a functioning human being.

Atem popped the lid off the cup and drained the rest of the drink inside—both to avoid the straw, and to justify when he packed his book back into his bag, threw his empty cup away, and left. Once outside, he took several steadying breaths to replace the oxygen he’d lost. And with his brain behaving normally again, he came to two conclusions on the way back home.

One: Yugi flipping his behavior upside down was a pleasant, if unexpected, change.

Two: It was most certainly going to kill him.

  
  


A week and a half later, Atem wasn’t dead. He’d come close several times, however.

He didn’t end up going for a fifth day in a row, deciding he needed some time off to recover from literally everything that happened to him on the _fourth_ day. He went back in on his regular schedule, and things were just as they’d been when he left off. Meaning, Yugi was nice, Atem could hardly function, and he was _very_ on board and panicking at the same time.

It was becoming clearer and clearer that he had less than nothing when it came to excuses about not asking Yugi out. They were _friends_ now, just a few days of being amicable toward each other had brought forth a lightning fast companionship. Yugi still rolled his eyes when Atem ordered, but they chatted while he made the drink. When Atem wasn’t rushing off to class, he sat closer to the counter so they could still talk while Yugi was working. They’d even met up campus a few times, when they had time between classes. Of course Yugi still questioned Atem’s coffee decisions, but it contained none of the malice it used to. It was like they’d been friends the whole time. 

And while Atem was dedicated to maintaining this new friendship, he couldn’t deny that _everything_ about how he felt toward Yugi was amplified now that it existed. He was smiling more, laughing more, talking about himself more. It certainly didn’t help that Yugi was as physically friendly as he was verbally—emphasizing a word by tapping Atem with a straw, gently patting his shoulder if they moved past each other, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the benches on campus grounds or the couches in the dorm common rooms. He was losing his cool in increments, day after day. Some time soon, his feelings were going to be obvious. If they weren’t already.

Technically, all his excuses had been eliminated the day Yugi apologized. Atem clearly wasn’t hated, and he wasn’t in any danger of being laughed out of the shop. The only thing stopping him now was _him_. Unfortunately, he was as stubborn as he was anxious around people. Which was a lot.

At the beginning of another week of this strangely wonderful torture, Atem rolled out of bed at his usual early hour, ready to psyche himself up on the way to the shop and fail to make a move once he got there. Again. It was part of the routine at this point.

He rubbed his eyes and stretched, only to do a double take when he noticed Marik across the room, sitting up on his bed, fully dressed, and inspecting his nails.

“Oh, you’re awake?” he said, barely looking up. “Good.”

“What’re you doing?” Atem mumbled, a yawn smothering his words.

“I’m coming with you today. Call it moral support.”

“Wha?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to make sure you get a boyfriend.”

Atem’s brain was too sluggish to be nervous or skeptical. He just nodded and got dressed.

Only when they were already on the way to the shop did he ask, "So tell me why you're coming along again?"

Marik gripped his shoulder. "Because I'm sick of watching you swoon over this guy, and it's gotten so bad that _I_ need closure now. I'm going to stand in the back and cheer you on while you ask him to date you finally."

"Please don't do that."

"I'll block the door, then. We're not leaving until you get this done."

"But—"

Marik shushed him with a finger to his lips. "Save it. Just thank me when it's over."

Atem batted the hand away. "Gee, how can I _ever_ repay you for this show of gratitude?" 

"You're buying, so I'm already getting free coffee."

"Since when am _I_ buying?"

"Since you've given me several headaches about your dumbass crush. I deserve this."

Atem had no defense for that. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered complaints under his breath. 

Java Nice Day came into view after another few minutes or so of bickering about what, exactly, Marik's "help" would entail. They were no closer to an agreement than when they left, but Marik stopped in his tracks to look the exterior of the building up and down.

" _This_ is the place," he said, "that you've been spending almost every morning at for two months of your life?"

Atem fell back to look with him. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. It's... cute."

Marik was squinting at the building like he was trying to find flaws in the foundation. Atem frowned.

"Just because you have outrageously expensive taste," he said, "doesn't mean that this place isn't worth trying." He shoved Marik toward the entrance.

"I know why it's worth it for _you._ "

"Shut it."

"It could use a different name."

"What's wrong with the name?" He pulled open the door.

"It's a pun."

"Yeah? And?"

They walked in, side by side, and Marik gave him a look. "That's all I need to say about it."

Before Atem could retaliate, a voice across the room chimed, "Good morning!"

His heart did a backflip into his throat. Yugi was at the counter like usual, cheerfully waving as they approached. Atem waved back.

"Morning," he said.

"Yo," said Marik. Then he leaned over to whisper, "That's the guy?"

Atem tensed and whispered back, " _Yes_ , that's the guy. Why would you ask me that now?"

"I don't want to cheer you on for asking out the _wrong_ guy."

"How do you not know what he looks like? I've told you what he looks like."

"All I know is that he's got the most beautiful fucking eyes, and that doesn't really _help_."

Atem cut the conversation short with a sharp hiss as they reached their destination. Yugi was giving them both an odd look, but he maintained his friendly smile.

"I recognize _one_ of you," he said, looking between the two of them.

Atem clapped Marik on the shoulder, a little harder than necessary. "Yugi, this is Marik. Marik, Yugi."

Yugi nodded brightly. "Oh, you're Marik! I've heard about you."

Marik shrugged Atem's hand off. "Yeah, I've heard quite a bit about you too."

Atem tried to set him on fire with a single look. It didn't work.

"Can I expect your tastes to line up?" Yugi asked, none the wiser.

"Don't worry," Marik reassured him. "I enjoy _normal_ coffee."

"Finally. Can you convince _him_ to like normal coffee too?"

"Sadly, all my efforts have failed."

"Alright, I get it," Atem interrupted, "I have an eclectic taste."

"Stupid,” Marik corrected. “Your taste is stupid."

"Just order something."

Marik jerked his thumb in Atem's direction, leaning over to pretend whisper at Yugi. "Does he annoy you as much as he annoys me?"

“I got used to it,” Yugi replied, gaze sliding to Atem. He winked. “Mostly.” 

Atem fidgeted every part of his body. He cleared his throat. “Well?” he asked Marik. “Are you getting something or not?”

Apparently satisfied with his torment, Marik leaned back onto his hips. “Small black coffee, darkest roast you’ve got.”

Yugi punched in the order, and before Atem could even open his mouth he said, “And the usual for you, right?”

Atem eyebrows jumped into his hairline. “Wow. I’ve reached ‘the usual’ status in just two months.” 

“ _Or_ I just can’t stand hearing it fifty times a week”

“Alright, but I’m still expecting you to call it out.”

“In your dreams.”

“What can I say? I dream big.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Marik groaned, “can we move along a bit? We still have a class to get to, remember?”

Yugi looked surprised, but stopped. Atem quit bantering and paid, but not without shooting Marik a nasty look. _If this is what he meant by “cheering me on_ ,” he thought, _then our definitions of “cheer” must be very different._

The two customers claimed a table near the serving counter while Yugi whisked himself away to make their drinks. Marik inspected the interior with skeptical eyes. Atem scooted his stool closer.

“What the hell were you doing back there?” he said lowly.

“Testing the waters for you,” Marik replied, just as quiet. “He likes you, by the way. Have no fear.”

Atem hurriedly looked over his shoulder to make sure the subject of their conversation wasn’t aware of them. “You gathered that from _one_ conversation?”

“I could tell from the minute I walked in here. You’d have to be blind and deaf not to.”

“How is any of this encouraging? Or supposed to help?”

“I have a plan. Just trust me.”

The way the morning had gone so far, Atem was not at all in the mood to trust a plan he’d only just been introduced to. But he really didn’t have a choice. 

“Fine,” he relented. “What is it?”

“It requires the element of surprise,” Marik said.

Atem pulled the most unimpressed face he could manage.

“Look, it’ll _work_ , alright?”

He was losing hope, along with any confidence he might have had. “Whatever you say.”

Marik let that be the end of it, pulling out his phone in one swift motion and tapping away as if Atem wasn’t even next to him. Atem resigned himself to staring across the room and trying to calm his nerves. 

Today was the day. He was really going to do this. 

His eyes slid to where Yugi worked behind the counter. Over the mechanical noise of coffee-making tech, Atem could barely hear Yugi humming to himself. He never once paused in his tasks, doing them all with a little extra flourish to match the music under his breath. Atem melted at the display, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands and straining his ears for more of the sweet sound.

“You’re gross,” Marik commented, not looking up from his phone.

“Didn’t ask,” Atem responded. He continued to fawn over the object of his affections.

“You’re interrupting satellite TV with the signals you’re sending.”

He glared at his supremely unhelpful cheerleader. “Is this part of your master plan?”

“Sure.”

Atem sighed. He shouldn’t have let Marik come with him.

He flipped back around to continue pining, but froze when he caught Yugi unabashedly staring at _him_. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, and it grew as their eyes locked. He dragged his eyes back down to his work, slowly, like he didn’t want to. Atem’s hands were slick with sweat, his heart hammered in his chest. He bored his eyes into a scratch on the table, forcing his body to behave itself.

 _Today_ was the day? He was _really_ going to do this?

Marik threw an arm around his shoulders and huddled close. “Don’t clam up now, idiot, we don’t even have our drinks yet.”

No sooner had he spoken than Yugi called, “Small black coffee, and the usual for Atem.”

Atem didn’t move. Marik all but hauled him to his feet, not removing his arm. “Come on, you’re doing this.”

He was no less nervous than he was thirty seconds ago. “I don’t know…”

“Nope. None of that shit, you’re _doing_ this. I’ll barricade the door myself if I have to.”

Atem wasn’t sure if it was helping, but he certainly felt compelled to get it done. Just get it out of the way so he didn’t have to feel like this anymore. Acceptance or rejection, he needed _something_ that would kick-start the next phase of his life. Plus, Marik clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

The arm around his shoulders squeezed as they took the short journey to the counter. Yugi looked between them curiously, but didn’t comment on it.

“Here you are,” he said, handing them their respective coffees. “Enjoy, and Java Nice Day.”

Atem wrapped his hands around his coffee, and drummed the lid with his thumbs. 

“Thanks,” Marik said. “One more thing, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Yugi said. “What do you need?”

He squeezed Atem’s shoulders again. Atem opened his mouth, not sure if he even had the presence of mind to form words—

When a hand clamped over his mouth.

Marik had him in a near-chokehold, gripping his jaw with every finger clenched tight. Atem couldn’t force his head away or open his mouth to bite—he felt like an alligator being restrained. Marik's smile was tense, eyes burning with cold fire. Yugi raised a hand in question, but he didn’t get to ask it.

“Listen,” Marik began, his voice taut, a rubber band about to snap, “I know we just met, but I need you to do me a solid. Because _this guy_ is literally the only reason I’m here.”

Atem’s eyes blew wide as he realized what was happening. He struggled against his bindings. Marik’s grip intensified. 

The door to the back room swung open, and out popped Ryou. “I have the restocks for the—”

He cut himself off with a hiccup. All eyes turned to the newcomer. Atem tried to use the distraction to free himself, but the grip hasn’t loosened even a fraction.

“Nevermind,” Ryou decided. He spun on his heel and disappeared back from whence he came.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Marik continued. “Atem’s big, dumb, gay crush on you is going to kill me via excess vomiting, and he’s too chickenshit to do anything about it. So if you two could work it out, somehow that would be amazing. Date. Let him down gently. Or roughly, I don’t care. Hell, as long as it’s not in our dorm, please feel free to hatefuck all you’d like.” 

Atem was trying to pry the hand off his mouth, with no results. Yugi had his own mouth covered, eyes wide like dinner plates.

“Anyway, that’s it. Thanks for the coffee.”

Marik ripped his hand back so hard, he yanked Atem’s head with him. Atem followed the momentum and spun around, watching Marik saunter out of the coffee shop with his drink in hand.

“I am going to skin you alive!” Atem shouted after him.

He made a peace sign over his shoulder. “Good luck!”

The door opened and slammed shut. The shop was pin-drop silent. 

“Um,” Yugi said. “I’m guessing you didn’t plan that?”

Atem pinched the bridge of his nose, hanging his head in despair. “ _I_ didn’t plan it, no. I’m sure he had it figured from the beginning.”

“Oh. Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

Never had an awkward silence been as awkward. It held the world record for the most concentrated awkwardness in a single moment. The air was palpable and thick. It could have been served on a plate. Atem was afraid to turn around.

“If you had something _else_ planned,” Yugi ventured, breaking the silence a second time, “I’m willing to hear it.”

Planned? Not at all. Something _else_? For sure. But Marik had spilled everything Atem would have said in fantastic fashion. Along with his dignity.

“I’m not sure how much more I _can_ say,” Atem admitted. He braced himself and turned around.

Yugi had his hands folded behind his back, an embarrassed hunch in his shoulders. “Maybe you can put it in your own words?”

That really was all he could do, wasn’t it? Even _unplanned_ , nothing he ever said could be worse than what just happened. And if Yugi was still listening…

“He wasn’t exaggerating about my big, dumb, gay crush on you,” Atem admitted, wiling to laugh at himself for the sake of lightening the mood

“Yeah,” Yugi said, with a shy smile, “I know."

“I was that obvious, huh?”

He averted his eyes. “Something like that.”

Atem could tell there was more to that story. “What do you mean?”

Yugi winced, his smile contorting. “Remember that loud sound you heard when you were studying with Mai and Marik?”

He had to think about it for a moment, but Atem did remember. None of them ever figured out what it was, despite the fact that he could have _sworn_ it was someone falling down the stairs. No one ever came out from the stairwell, though, and there was no one else in the room. How could Yugi even know about it? Unless he was _there_ when it happened, of course, but Atem definitely would have _seen_ —

The pieces snapped together.

“That was _you_?” he blurted.

Yugi nodded, cringing into his own neck. “That was me.”

The topic of that night’s conversation came rushing back all at once. Atem thought he had no more dignity left to lose, and _yet_.

“How much did you…?” he said, trailing off and hoping the meaning was implied.

“Most of it,” Yugi replied, no more excited to be admitting it than Atem was to hear it. “I freaked out when I heard my name, so I hid around the corner until you were done talking.”

“Oh.” _Shit_. _Someone shoot me_.

“Thank you. For all that stuff you said. No one’s ever—I mean, I don’t _think_ anyone’s ever talked about me like that. I don’t make a habit of eavesdropping on conversations about myself. So um. Thanks.” 

_Actually, hold off on shooting me._ “I really do think all that stuff about you. No exaggerations.”

Yugi turned pink and it was _adorable_. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

This… wasn’t going terribly. It could even be considered going _well_ , from someone’s perspective. Namely Atem’s, who had fully expected to spontaneously combust before Marik had finished his “request.”

Maybe he _could_ do this. Today. Right now.

“Would it be redundant,” Atem said, “if I asked if you wanted to go out sometime?”

The shyness in Yugi’s face transformed to thrill, like he’d been waiting for this for a hundred years. “I’d love to.”

Atem had never expected to hear those words, come out of that mouth, to answer that question, ever, in all his life. But they just got said, and he was sure he’d never been happier. He smiled until he was sure he’d split his face in half. 

“Great!” he said. “That’s great! When?”

“I don’t have anything going on Saturday.”

“Me neither.” 

Atem’s phone screeched in his pocket, and he paled. He didn’t even have to take it out to know what it was: his reminder for class.

“I have to go,” he said, “but we can talk about what we’re doing later, if you want.”

“I’ll cut you a deal.” Yugi clasped his hands in front of his chest, begging. “We can do _anything_ except coffee.”

Atem picked up his large, iced hazelnut macchiato, upside down, with sugar-free syrup, and an extra shot, in all its ridiculous glory. 

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> i've had multiple coffee lovers tell me i'm a monster for frankenstein-ing together the horror that is atem's order out of the worst coffee orders i could find online, and i want you all to know that i regret nothing


End file.
